


a healing

by algae_dad



Series: Simon Lewis and Jace Wayland deserve more [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: (not blood siblings but emotional), Autistic Alec Lightwood, Bad Parent Maryse Lightwood, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Clary Fray & Jace Wayland are Siblings, Consent Issues, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Found Family, Gen, Hurt Jace Wayland, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insomnia, Jace Wayland Deserves Nice Things, Jace Wayland is an abuse survivor, Jace Wayland-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Past Magnus Bane/Camille Belcourt, Past Maia Roberts/Jordan Kyle, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Alec Lightwood, Protective Izzy, Protective Luke, Protective Magnus Bane, Rape Recovery, Trans Jace, Trans Jace Wayland, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Valentine Morgenstern's A+ Parenting, basically everyones fucked up and trying their best, blatantly inspired by fear u should go read it, hypersexuality as a coping mechanism, jace wayland is a soft boy, non-con of characters other than jace, past abusive relationships, please love this boy, pre-taste it on your mouth, the slowest slow-burn jimon imaginable if u squint, trauma bros simon and jace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11916975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/algae_dad/pseuds/algae_dad
Summary: If to love is to destroy, then Valentine must have loved him because Jace is destroyed.or:Valentine's abuse of Jace was not just physical, and Luke is the first to learn the truth. Slowly, Jace's new family finds out, and despite many setbacks, he makes his way to healing. Set after 2x15 and ignoring canon pretty much from then on.





	1. one of those dreams

**Author's Note:**

> title from the Greek meaning of the name Jace: a healing (and damn if that isn't fitting)  
> this was spurred by my friend and I noticing the weird almost sexual energy Valentine displays toward Jace in the show, always speaking about how much he wants him (it's played almost the exact same as the Jonathan/Clary dynamic and to me that speaks volumes). this isn't meant to say that the abuse Jace already canonically suffered from Valentine wasn't bad enough; this is just a different interpretation. I will never be posting a chapter with any graphic description of the sexual abuse because I find that exploitative, but Jace will definitely speak about certain aspects of it during the fic.  
> Jace's deadname in this fic is Juliana; it will most likely not be used unless Valentine or Maryse makes an appearance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for nightmares, vomiting, food triggers

It doesn't come out with a meltdown, with screamed words about the unfairness of it all, with a loosened memory too similar to a nightmare that it has to be true; no, as with all things Jace Wayland, it could never be that simple.

Luke first notices when he puts a hand on Jace’s shoulder. At this point, he knows the young shadowhunter well enough to understand that Jace is far from the biggest fan of touch; he also knows that the short time the boy had spent with Valentine had shaken him more than he let on. So it isn't the flinch itself that catches him off-guard, no that's reasonable. It's how Jace instantly knows to suppress it. If it wasn't for Luke's werewolf senses he might not have even noticed because as soon as his hand made contact, Jace forcibly relaxed his posture instead of stiffening it. That's a trained response, and Luke takes note. In the back of his mind, Luke has always suspected Valentine was abusive with Jace in his childhood (even though they had been close enough to become parabatai, at no point would Luke have ever thought Valentine to be a good or caring father), and this solidifies it in his mind. Still, Luke isn't quite close enough to him for bringing it up to be appropriate. So he stores that information away, and goes back to focussing on the mission at hand.

Then there's the soul sword’s activation, and the grief and rage running through Luke is making it hard to do much more than watch Valentine and wait for a chance to wrap claws around the bastard’s neck. But Luke still notices, the way Valentine pulls Jace close and the brief flash of fear and resignation in the Shadowhunter’s eyes. Still notices the way Valentine curls his tongue as he almost purrs out Jace's birth name, talks of how he loves Jace even if he isn't his son, how he  _ wants _ him. Despite bleeding heavily, the red obscuring Luke's vision is not blood, it is fury at the unfairness of the world, it is disgust at the ungrateful being he had dared to call parabatai. But Valentine is captured and again this information must be filed away, but it is far from forgotten.

It's only after Inquisitor Herondale has left, after he knows his pack is safe and that Jace is more stable, surrounded by family instead of drowning in connections of blood, that Luke thinks of bringing it up. Because the boy has always been reckless to the point of self-sacrificing but. This is not arrogance (on some level Luke can admit he already knew that, how one look at Jace had told him this was someone vying for approval, someone who had only ever felt valued when he was bruised and bloody). This is someone whose life is defined by usefulness and now has no use.

Maia ends up being the one to bring it up. She's blunt with him about the nature of hers and Jace's encounter (God save the man who tries to make Maia shameful of sex), about how they agreed it meant nothing and how while it's true that there was no romance on either side, it clearly meant  _ something _ .

“He never let me touch him. I mean, he was glad to let me push him around, but below the belt was clearly a no-go for him, he just wanted to get me off. I wouldn't tell you this normally, but... the way he wanted to be used. I know that behavior.” Luke sucks in a breath of recognition, and Maia nods before turning back to cleaning the bar. “I may not really like the guy, but no-one deserves that.” He takes that as the unstated request it is: fix your Shadowhunter. This isn’t the first time part of his pack has asked him about Jace, though it’s normally for one of three reasons: asking him if he’s single, asking him if they’re allowed to kill him, or asking if he’s technically a Downworlder (though the first and last have been heavily overshadowed by the second as of late). 

Luke knows Jace is still staying in the Institute, but even though he’s intimately familiar with the layout of the building (if he’s to be made to spend time in a place regularly, it’d be stupid not to memorize all the exits) it takes almost an hour to find Jace. Not being in his quarters wasn’t terribly surprising, even with the early hour of the morning, but to find the boy in one of the many libraries, playing a solemn melody on the piano almost stops his heart. Jace and Valentine don’t share many physical traits, but the resemblance is all in the way Jace holds himself, and seeing him leaned over the piano, eyes closed in focus takes Luke into memories he’d rather forget of Valentine when he wasn’t angry, when he was young and charming and helpful, when he would spend hours at the piano taking his strays’ requests.

It’s more painful to remember Valentine as anything more than a monster.

“Jace?” He finishes the refrain he’s on before looking up at Luke, and as always his eyes seem to be holding separate emotions. The blue eye holds a cold anger, a resentment, but the mixed eye holds fondness in its brown and sadness in its blue. Jace is thinking of Valentine too, but not the dictator, or even the parabatai: no, this is Valentine the father. 

“Hey, Luke. Is something happening?” Jace asks, faking a casual air but clearly very unsure.

Luke huffs a laugh and sits on a chair near the piano bench, “Surprisingly, no. I just figured we could take the time to talk when there isn’t a battle going on.” Jace laughs at this as well and closes the piano. “So. How does it feel to be a Herondale?”

Jace winces, “Imogen is… I mean, she’s not exactly who you’d picture as a grandmother? But then again I never really thought much about that. She mostly just tells me stories about Will-about my father. It’s honestly pretty similar to when I first came to the Institute. Everyone was saying all these things about Michael Wayland, and kind of… Expecting me to be like him? Sorry about this.”

“It’s no problem Jace. Believe me, I know a thing or two about identity changes. Just remember that, no matter how other people change around you, you’re still Jace.” Which was apparently the wrong thing for Luke to say.

“But I’m not, am I? Or at least, Jace isn’t me, really. It’s short for Jonathan Christopher and that-that’s his name, his son, that’s not me. I asked him for a new name and he gave me someone else’s, gave me his dead son’s. It’s not like I could use my old name, because that’s not really me, either? That’s some young kid, that’s a girl and a falcon, that’s-” And Jace is standing, pacing, and all of Luke wants to follow him, to hold him like Clary or let him dance on his toes like Simon, but he stays seated. Jace isn’t like them; of course, they don’t have the same relationship, built on years of rides to summer camp and trips to the zoo; but more than that, he doesn’t want what they would want. One of the last hugs he saw Jace in was one unwillingly in Valentine’s arms, and somehow Luke doubts Jace wants to balance on his shoes considering the dangerous balancing act he’s been in for the last few months (years, if they’re both being honest. They aren’t).

“Think of it this way: Valentine tried to name you twice, tried to make you into his daughter and then his son, and both times you refused. Jace is  _ yours _ ; he knows that, that’s why he never calls you it. Because it gives you strength, and he could never be a match for your strength.” Luke doesn’t know where this is coming from, doesn’t know what right he has talking like this to someone who's connected to him only by the man who ruined both of their lives. But that’s not true, is it.

Jace laughs, something wet and dangerous and wild, “I’m pretty sure Valentine has showed that he’s more than a match for me no matter what. I couldn’t-I’ve never been stronger than him. I’ve never been able to stop him-”

“He’s in prison now, and that’s because of  _ you _ -”

“Because I was too much of a coward to kill him when I could.”

“No. Because you were stronger than him; because you were stronger than killing him. I don’t know if I could have showed the same restraint.”

Walking a path diagonally through the room, from the piano to the door and back, Jace looks for all intents and purposes like an animal in a cage (or a boy in a cabin). “He always said that was my greatest weakness. My mercy.”

Luke wants to break, “No Jace, your mercy is what makes you powerful-”

“Powerful enough for what? To watch my father die in front of me? Or before, when he broke my falcon’s neck, and I did nothing because I didn’t want to hurt him. Or when I released the animals we trapped and he kept me without food for a week to really show me how strong I could be if I showed my food mercy. I was so  _ strong _ when I was hiding in corners, praying to the Angel that he wouldn’t,” It’s as if every word is being ripped out of him until finally he stops, putting a hoodie-clad fist to his mouth and breathing, trying to will away the hitching and the tears that are already streaming down his face. Luke does stand now, walking closer but keeping his center of gravity low, making sure with his slightly taller stature that he doesn’t loom over the shaking boy.

“All of that  _ does _ make you strong, because you  _ survived _ .” Luke doesn’t move to touch him, but his body is open, he’s near enough that Jace can feel he’s there, and apparently that’s enough comfort for Jace’s shoulders to slowly loose their tension. He wipes at his eyes and nose with a sleeve of his gray hoodies, and he doesn’t respond to Luke with words. Instead he makes eye contact and nods his head once. He survived.

* * *

They stay like that, thinking and breathing as Jace collects himself, for half an hour. Luke doesn’t mind; Clary used to have problems falling asleep without other people, so he would sit quietly on her bed for hours, occasionally stroking her hair. When Jace seems calm enough, Luke throws out the idea of getting food and Jace readily agrees. Something tells him this will probably be the first meal he’s had in too long.

No one stops them as they head out to Luke's car, but Luke makes note of the dirty looks thrown Jace's way. Can the kid never catch a break? He drives them to the Jade Wolf, pulling up in front as usual. As he gets out, he notices Jace doesn't move from his seat. The boy's breathing is accelerated and he's staring at something unseen in the distance, and suddenly Luke feels like an idiot. Taking someone who's been nearly mauled by werewolves at least three times in the past week straight into pack territory? That's real smart.

“Hey. How's about we just eat at my place? I've gotten kinda sick of mu-shu pork.” Jace nods shakily and Luke gets back in, again wanting nothing more than to put a reassuring hand on Jace's shoulder but knowing it would do anything but reassure. So he takes them to his apartment, running over what he has in his fridge that's suitable for an underfed Shadowhunter. As he walks up the stairs he listens to Jace following behind him; if it weren’t for his wolf senses, Luke doubts he would hear the younger man’s steps at all. They get to the door of his apartment and Luke unlocks it before stepping aside to let Jace in, but Jace just looks at him with barely disguised confusion. Oh. Jace doesn’t want Luke behind him. He steps in and Jace follows, closing the door and waiting as Luke locks it back up again, and as soon as the final lock clicks Jace lets out an audible sigh of relief. 

“Make yourself at home,” Luke says as he walks over to the kitchen, ignoring the snicker he gets in response. In his fridge, he finds leftover spaghetti that surprisingly doesn’t smell like mold (the same can’t be said for his milk, but there’s a few beers and he grabs those instead). The food only takes a minute to heat up and then he walks back out to the living room. He is greeted by Jace half-asleep leaning against the door. He sets the plates on the table and the sound is enough to draw Jace’s attention, and the man subtly shakes himself awake.

“I have food ready, but you could take the couch for some sleep…” Luke offers, but Jace shakes his head.

“No, I’m good; unless you can’t handle me.” he says with a smirk, and Luke huffs a laugh.

“You wish,” and gestures for him to sit down at the table with him. Luke starts eating immediately, giving into his own hunger. Jace’s fork scrapes against the plate much slower, and he spends more time sipping at his beer. He looks over at Jace when he’s almost finished his plate to find Jace’s still full, and the man himself was staring in the distance again. 

“Jace? Are you alri-” he’s interrupted by Jace running to the kitchen, and seconds later the unmistakable sound of retching. Instead of rushing to follow, Luke stacks the plates and throws away the beer bottles. After thinking for a second, he scrapes the rest of Jace’s pasta into the trash as well. When the kitchen goes quiet he walks in, putting the dishes on the counter before walking over to where Jace is leaned over the sink, spitting occasionally. As soon as Jace notices he’s there, he turns on the water and rinses his sick down the drain before looking sheepishly up at Luke.

“Sorry, it’s just… When I was with V-valentine, he made me spaghetti again. He would always… whenever he’d-” and he’s retching again, and for the second time that night Luke feels like an idiot. Without really thinking, Luke pushes Jace’s hair back for him, and when Jace doesn’t flinch he runs his hand over his head a few times. Once he stops retching he seems to lean into Luke’s touch. He keeps stroking his hair with one hand and leans over to grab and wet a towel. Luke asks quietly if he can clean his face and, once given the affirmative, wipes gently at the sweat and spit on the man’s face. Once it’s clear there will be no more vomiting, Luke guides him over to the couch and Jace lays down gratefully.

“You gonna take me up on the sleep offer now?” He asks, and Jace laughs quietly, his throat sore, before nodding. Jace blushes as Luke tucks a blanket around him but neither say anything, content in the quiet exchange. Realistically, Luke knows that Jace will be called back to the Institute in only an hour or so, but he has a feeling it won’t take much convincing for his parabatai to allow him to sleep in.

And speak of the devil. Luke silences his phone as soon as it starts ringing, heading into another room so as not to disturb Jace. “Alec, what’s going on?”

“Have you seen Jace? He isn’t on mission and-”

“Jace is at my apartment; he’s sleeping off a stomach bug,” a bit of a lie, but Luke isn’t about to break Jace’s trust and talk about his traumas, even if it is to his parabatai, “I think it would be best if he could stay, it looks like he hasn’t been sleeping much.” That gets a wry snort out of Alec.

“I don’t doubt it. There’s nothing pressing today so it should be fine. I’ll be checking in in a few hours.”

\--

Jace wakes up on a couch he doesn't recognize. For years this hasn't been a problem; he's grown accustomed to sleeping lightly wherever he can and had all but forgotten the nights where he would wake up alone in the forest and hear Valentine laughing and telling him to find him, or the nights waking up alone in the cabin with all the doors runed shut.

But now he has new memories. Of killing Valentine again and again, of spending every waking hour trying to escape. So that's what he does. He doesn't stop to think how Valentine could have captured him without waking him, he just gets up and scrambles for a weapon, crying in frustration that he's without his boots and their knife compartment. Then there are arms around him, not holding tight but gentle and that's what makes him freeze, because Valentine only did that when he wanted…

These arms aren't Valentine's; they're dark and warm and calloused, and the voice rumbling through his body is too deep and calm and  _ caring _ .

“... It's alright Jace, that's it. You're in my apartment in Brooklyn, you got sick while we ate and I let you sleep on the couch. That's it,” He relaxes back into Luke's chest, panting and trying to calm the adrenaline pumping in him. He's safe. He's with Luke. Valentine isn't here. He's safe.

With Luke's help he sits back on the couch and Luke sits too, no longer holding him but keeping a firm hand on his arm to ground him. “You good?”

“Yeah, I… Yeah. Sorry.” Jace is suddenly conscious of the sweat around his collar and the tears in his eyes, and he wipes at his face almost angrily.

“Hey, it's alright; we all get nightmares, believe me.”

“It actually wasn’t a nightmare… It was just me and Valentine, talking, making jokes, and eating spaghetti. Maybe that’s why I kinda freaked out when I woke up.” Both of them know there’s more to it than that, and Jace prays Luke won’t look for it.

But then, when have Jace’s prayers ever been answered. Luke clears his throat, “You said, or tried to say, that Valentine only… Did he make you it after he beat you?”

Luke is surprised when Jace barks out a wet laugh. “Father would never give me something after a  _ beating _ . Starve me after one, maybe, he was fond of…. Observing the effects different stimuli could have on healing.” He laughs again, but it breaks off into a choked sob. Luke just lets him cry and Jace hates it, hates how Luke doesn't laugh or punish or say anything, just sits and keeps a hand on his arm.

Once his crying turns to the occasional hitched breath, Luke speaks up again, “I understand how difficult it can be to remember parts of your time with Valentine that weren't all bad, or were even nice… it's difficult to reconcile something human with someone who did such monstrous things.” On some level Jace understands what Luke is saying, and could even think of examples of the rare birthday gift or kind words if he tries, but. This is not a happy memory. 

“He, he didn't make the spaghetti to be  _ nice _ ,” and God, is Jace really saying this? He trusts Luke, more than he should, but it's not just that. It's that Luke was his parabatai, was betrayed just like he was, was made a  _ monster _ just like him. Maybe he'll understand. Maybe he won't hate him, and maybe the bile burning in his throat will go away. “He m-made it because the night before he'd, he'd-”

“Jace it's okay, you don't have to say anything you don't want to.” Luke starts rubbing his arm comfortingly but Jace flinches, draws his arm away because that's too close, too much like how  _ it _ started. 

“But I do have too! Because, because of  _ this _ ! How I flinch and have nightmares and can't handle things all because my father raped me!” Suddenly there is anger coursing through his veins and he lashes out, kicking at the table in front of him and relishing in the sound of splintering wood. He may be weak, and broken, and worthless but he can still hurt and damage and destroy. He kicks again, kicks and kicks and maybe it's Valentine, maybe. Maybe it's himself.

The table doesn't last long, and Jace is snapped out of… whatever this is, when it is little more than scrap wood. He registers on some level that Luke is talking, has been since he started, but honestly? He doesn't care. Where the anger was there is now just an empty weight, and the only thing Jace really wants to pay attention to is going back to sleep on that couch. He says as much to Luke, ignoring that he was interrupting the man asking if he's okay because he's not, they both know that.

Luke lets climb back onto the couch, brushes away some wood splinters with his hand before putting the blanket back over him. “That's alright,” he says, “you can just sleep.”

 


	2. what is the lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-descript discussion of rape and some internal victim blaming

Jace sleeps fitfully but he’s mostly awake when Luke lets Alec into the apartment, not that he lets Alec know this. While most of him wants nothing more than to hug his parabatai close, soak in the warmth and acceptance of their bond, Jace is afraid. Afraid that Alec will see him as broken and useless just like so many have before him. Jace already had to prove his worth as a fighter just to be accepted into Alec’s family, then had to prove his worth as a brother to be his parabatai. Part of him thinks bitterly of what Maryse would think of him now, taking a sick day in a Downworlder’s apartment just to cry about how mean his daddy was.

He can’t help but snort at his own horrible cynicism, but that alerts Alec to his wakefulness, and the older man stops his hushed conversation with Luke to crouch by him at the couch. Jace pulls himself up to face Alec, his normally stoic face showing the concern and care he can feel radiating through the bond. Ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes he puts out a hand. Alec instead grabs him by the arm and pulls him into a hug.

“Tell me when you’re not feeling well, idiot.” He mumbles into Jace’s shirt, and Jace suppresses the urge to reply that he can’t tell Alec that every day. Sometimes holding in all the hurt just gets so fucking tiring. Still, his parabatai deserves the truth.

“I wasn’t… I’m not sick, Alec.” In fact, about the only physical symptom Jace feels is sleep deprivation, which might have something to do with how… open he's been with Luke.

“You think I couldn't tell that, Jace? Look, I know you've been struggling since we got you back from Valentine,” as Alec speaks, crouched close to his parabatai, Luke makes himself scarce; it's almost the start of his shift regardless, “and I know that everything after has only made things harder on you. It's more than justified if you decide to take a break, you just have to  _ talk _ with me.” Jace has the decency to look sheepish at that. Neither of the Shadowhunters could take home any prizes for open communication, but Jace is definitely the worse offender, especially when it comes to his past with Valentine.

He doesn't say anything in response, just takes in the comforting presence of his parabatai, leaning in until their foreheads meet. And, for just that moment, things feel okay.

\--

Alec and Jace stay at Luke's loft, both of them unfamiliar with the space but so familiar with each other that it's one of the most comfortable experiences Jace can remember. They talk, but only about light, day-to-day changes. When he asks Alec about Magnus he gets to bask in the warm feeling through the bond while his parabatai talks about cooking and dates and how Magnus tried to do his makeup,  _ “I just don't understand how he can do eyeliner without blinding himself. Really makes me respect Izzy's dedication to it more.” _

But duty calls, and Alec heads back to the Institute with a few harsh words about possible probation if Jace doesn't catch up on his sleep.

Luke texts, says he'll be back at his apartment in a couple hours and that he'll bring back mu-shu pork if he's still there. Jace takes the time alone to think. He's itching to punish himself for how emotional and unrestrained he has shown himself to be, but the rational part of his brain knows that the three days he's gone without sleep are what's to blame. A consistent sleep schedule has never been within Jace's reach, but with everything that's gone on… he's lucky to get an hour a night before memories wake him up. 

Thoughts that he knows are mostly Alec's are telling him that he needs help, that the loosening of the ever-present knot in his stomach is a sign that talking about  _ it _ will help, has helped already. Maryse would disagree, would say that talking about issues only exposes your weaknesses, would scoff if he even tried to bring up his father's treatment to her. So maybe it's just as much out of spite for her and trust of Alec that Jace decides he does want to talk more (or maybe it's deciding that Valentine doesn't get to control him anymore, that he's not going to keep his secrets for him; maybe it's knowing that this is his truth and he can do with it what he wants).

Jace is rehearsing what to say about it when Luke comes in, holding bags of the promised takeout in one hand, two sets of packaged chopsticks held in his slightly too-sharp teeth as he fumbles to put his keys away and close the door. He jumps up from the couch to help him, making note of the absence of both coffee table and debris as he grabs the bags and walks them over to the kitchen island separating it from the living room. 

“Luke, I-”

“If that's gonna be a thank you, shove it. We've both gotten each other out of enough scrapes to call us battle brothers, at the very least.” Luke’s tone is light but brukes no argument, and Jace just huffs a laugh before sitting to eat with him.

“As if I'd thank you,” which earns him a shove that makes him happier than it probably should, “no, I. I wanted to tell you more about him. Valentine.” He clears his throat before shoving an overly large bite in his mouth.

Luke sighs, “I know I was his parabatai, but you don't have to feel obligated to talk to me about him. Believe me kid, I've had enough of him for a lifetime.”

Jace sets down his fork and starts picking absently at his fingers. “No, I know that. I wanted to talk more about what he… did. If I can. Angel, I didn't think Clary’d be right about this, but even just saying what I have has left me feeling… lighter, I guess. Like he doesn't have that bit of control over me like he did before.” He clenches a fist at that, a surprising wave of pride washing through him. He won't have to keep that man's secrets any longer.

“Of course you can talk with me about it. I know we,” Luke shifts on the couch to face Jace, but the younger man keeps his eyes trained on his hands, “I know we've had our tensions, but that was from leadership perspectives. As a person… As a man I admire you Jace, how strong yet caring you are, how protective you are, your quick thinking, whether with weapons or words. You've been good to my ki-to Simon and Clary, and you've made mistakes but you've grown from them. You're a friend, kid, and just like with Simon and Clary, I  _ want _ you to be able to come to me with stuff like this.” Both men recognize the words almost said and what they mean, that  _ I want you to see me as a father, want you to be my kid like Clary and her brother _ .

Jace is too overwhelmed to truly take that in, but he nods regardless. He then takes a few deep breaths, gathering his thoughts and getting ready. Deciding to tell Luke about Valentine had been a difficult decision, but Jace is surprised to find that once he starts, it all comes out in a rush. “It started when I was eight. I’d been learning piano for three years, but I still wasn’t up to his standards. He’d… he’d beaten me pretty badly the day before, so my muscles were stiff and I was dragging. I could tell something was different, because he didn’t grab my hands when I messed up, but I played the piece through. Once I finished, he told me that… that ‘If you do badly on purpose, then you don’t deserve the kindness of broken fingers’, and he made me strip in front of him.”

Luke takes in a deep breath but doesn't interrupt, and for that he is thankful; if Jace stopped, he doesn’t know if he would ever talk about it again. “It didn’t last very long, and he iratze’d me as soon as he was done, but. I was so small, and it hurt so  _ much _ ,” His voice breaks on the last word, and he puts his face in his hands. He doesn’t cry, not really; he’s too tired to cry, but his body shakes regardless, taking in ragged breaths as he tries to hold on to his last shred of composure. They sit in that broken silence, together on the couch, for what could be a minute, could be an hour. Luke is the first to speak.

“Thank you for telling me. Now, you don’t have to respond to this; I’m just going to say it, and you can go back to eating if you want.” Luke waits for Jace to nod in agreement. “This wasn’t your fault, it was Valentine’s.”

Jace takes a swig of bear.

* * *

 

As much as Jace appreciates the older man’s hospitality, Luke’s apartment quickly becomes stifling. The one-bedroom clearly wasn’t meant for two people, and Jace needs space. Too long somewhere small and it starts to feel like the cabin; maybe that’s why he yearns for the open spaces of the Institute, even though he knows the judgement he’ll face when he goes back.

It’s just shy of a week when he decides to leave, receiving a warm handshake from Luke and an open invitation for moo shu pork in goodbye, and once he steps out he breathes heavily. This is the first friend he’s made outside of the Institute. Though Luke offered to drive him back, the walk isn’t long, and Jace needs some time to clear his head. He’s excited for training, and desperate for the feeling of his parabatai near him, but he also knows he’ll have to talk. If nothing else, it’s important for the Head of the Institute to know their top soldier’s blinding weakness (he knows Alec won’t think of it so tactically, knows his brother would never be so callous, but one of them has to be). 

He’s at the doors before he really registers he’s there, and just as he’s about to open them a blinding flash of silver and black beats him to it and he’s pulled into a hug by Izzy. Izzy, who’s muttering curses he wishes he didn’t know in Spanish while squeezing the life out of him.

She lets go only to hit him roughly on the arm, and Jace winces, about to ask what that was for, before she hugs him once again, this time a short squeeze before stepping back and trying to look professional. “Next time, tell us when you need a break.” There’s a deep concern that she’s trying to mask with cockiness, and Jace is taken aback by his love for his sister.

He of course doesn’t say that, “Well with that new hardass running the place…” Izzy tries to hide a snort just as said hardass walks up behind her, giving them both an annoyed yet fond look.

“Get inside; all our security measures mean nothing if you leave the door wide open,” the younger siblings do as they’re told, but not without sending some impressive death glares Alec’s way. Jace is about to snark back once the locks are sealed when he’s pulled into yet another hug, small and powerful and filled with a rush of worry and relief in their bond. He returns the hug readily before they both pat each other on the back, the meaning clear.

Welcome home.

\--

Jace is on training duty for most of the day; Alec insists it’s not a punishment, just getting him back into practice after his absence. He didn’t need to: Jace lives for training now, seeing what his newly activated abilities can do, and he’s sweaty and exhausted and in heaven by the time he’s done.

The anxiety of what he's about to do doesn't settle back in until he's already at the door of Alec’s office, knocking.

“Come in,” as soon as Jace steps in Alec's tone changes from formal to find, “Jace. I see you've worked yourself thoroughly. What's up?”

“You already know that Valentine would beat me,” Jace decides to barrel through with no small talk in the hopes that he can get it all out before Alec responds or asks him to stop. Alec, whose eyes are wide and who's sending shock and pain through the bond, but who nods nonetheless, “but that wasn't all he did. He would starve me, sure, that sucked, he would break my fingers, lock me in closets, but. Th-there's something else that he did, that I was too… ashamed to admit. B-but I think I'm learning that it's, it's he who should be ashamed.” Jace feels a flash of pride go through the bond, and the shock and confusion and empathy is still there flowing into him.

“When he felt that the other punishments weren't enough, or I guess just, whenever he f-felt like it he would. He would ask me to strip a-and then bend me over and I didn't want it! But he was so big and he was supposed to be my  _ father- _ ” Jace breaks off into sobs, ugly and open like he rarely lets himself be but not before Alec is there, arms wrapped around him and Jace clings desperately. Through the bond he feels no disgust, no anger at him, just a deep sadness and love, so much love that Jace never thought he could receive.

“I wish you didn't have to go through that.”

“I know.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“... I think I know that, too.” Or at least he's starting to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: i am writing the next chapter y'all but blease,,, if u have anything u wanna see in this,,,, some tropes,,, a meme, ill do it. scream at me @algea-dad on tumblr. love u I know this story is depressing but there's some happiness coming up!!! and more angst if im being honest but there's Malec!!! A Pillow Fort!!! Izzy! It's all there!!!!  
> lmao sorry this is shorter but honestly this is around the length the rest of the chapters will be. also sorry for long update wait but that's also gonna be pretty typical cause of school and my mental state of unwellness  
> please tell me what you want from this story cause I have some ideas about where it's gonna go but if you want to see any specific interactions or scenes ill probably pop them in  
> as always, comments cure my depression thanks


	3. why have I been abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for victim blaming, emotional abuse, transphobia, time loss/dissociation, abuse scars

Alec decides to give them the weekend off. He still has obligations as the Head, but he moves all of his work into the Institute library, along with a small pile of blankets and his parabatai in tow (at first he suggests his bedroom, but one look at Jace and he knows that won’t happen). He lays a blanket out between the piano and an armchair; the last time either had built a fort, Jace was just warming up to the Lightwoods, and after a nightmare Alec and Izzy had decided to set it up and pull Jace under. Together they’d helped him drift off to sleep, only to be woken by Maryse asking why they were doing something so childish.

Jace crawls in with some beckoning on Alec’s part, clearly wanting to say something to the same effect but. He sits, surrounded by blankets and warmth and Alec’s warmth flowing through the bond and. He relaxes. His grief flows out of him, with his rage and guilt and sadness, and he knows Alec feels it through the tightening of the arm around him. It’s been awhile since he laid with someone. Jace never lets his hook-ups stay the night, and the feeling of another body next to him, with no expectations or misunderstandings, is nice. Safe. Without thinking much about it, he closes his eyes; not sleeping, just resting and taking in the rarer and rarer comfort of his parabatai.

Maybe he does sleep, because the next thing he hears is a knock at the door, and Alec only whispers in response, careful not to shake him as he leans his head out of the fort. The steps on the wood floor are definitely stilettos, but the footfall is heavier than any woman Jace has scene at the Institute.

“Ah… A cuddle party? Without me?” Magnus. Jace can practically hear the fake pout in his words, and if he had the energy he’d probably snort. As is, he leans closer into Alec and lets them talk.

Alec sighs heavily, “I won’t be able to make our date tomorrow. I’m taking the weekend off with Jace.” Magnus crouches down to see him, grabs his hand.

“What’s wrong, pet?” He rubs his thumb in circles on Alec’s hand, comforting him slowly and Alec sighs again, leaning into it as much as he can while keeping his arm around Jace. Part of Jace feels embarrassed, selfish for keeping Alec away from his boyfriend, but most of him is tired, deep and heavy in a way he doesn’t think will ever leave. And Alec is light, especially as in love right now as he is. He clings to that, barely registering the conversation still going on.

“Jace is… Some memories have been brought back up, and he needs some time to recover. By the Angel, I knew Valentine had hurt him, but this…” Alec has to level his breathing, knowing even in sleep his parabatai can feel his whirling emotions.

Magnus takes in a sharp breath before tempering his thoughts. “You saw the scars.” Jace masks his own noise of surprise under Alec’s. He’s not surprised that Magnus knows about them, of course. No, he doesn’t think he could ever forget that.

_ \-- _

_ He’d just had a nightmare. That wasn’t uncommon. Ever since he’d gotten back from Valentine’s ship, they’d been a nightly occurrence. But this is the first time he hasn’t been alone; his first night in Magnus’ loft. Jace hadn’t thought to activate his silencing rune, and he’s more than sure that, if Magnus is home, he heard. It doesn’t help that he’d had a panic attack while waking up, leaving him sweaty, tired and horribly on edge. _

_ A light knock on the door confirms that Magnus is home and heard him. Normally Jace would push him away, but he’s exhausted and honestly, some help sounds good right now. “Come in,” he winces at the roughness in his voice. _

_ The door is opened and Magnus is standing almost awkwardly by his bedside; aside from the occasional healing, their relationship has never been anything more than grudging acceptance and snarky replies. This, comforting, caring for each-other, is foreign to both of them. _

_ “Nightmare?” Jace nods, and Magnus throws him a look of understanding. While he’s thankful for the lack of pity, this is uncomfortable. He’s shirtless, covered in sweat and he knows Magnus is smart enough to see the tears mixed in with it. _

_ “Could I- could you grab me a shirt?” Within seconds a shirt is on his lap, still radiating the faint energy of Magnus’ magic, and Jace wastes no time turning away and pushing the sheets off his body to put the shirt on. He stops halfway through as Magnus gasps, and turns around in confusion. The look he gets back is one of someone having seen something he shouldn’t, which only confuses him further. Magnus has already seen his top surgery scars, and it’s not like he…. Oh. The other scar. _

_ He’s bright red from the face down as Magnus speaks, “I’m sorry. Not just that that happened, but. I’m sorry I saw without your permission. You don’t have to talk now; knowing nightmares as I do, you’ll probably be desperate to some rest after. Later, though… I’d like to know what happened to you.” Jace nods, tracing the bite mark on his lower back as Magnus leaves the room. _

_ They talk in the morning. Jace didn’t really go to sleep, just lay in his borrowed bed and tried to push down his dream of hands and hips and blood, and as soon as it hit five a.m. he was up like clockwork. To calm his racing thoughts of what he might say, or what he can’t, he cooks. Magnus walks out at six to full plates of pancakes, sausage and fruit, and Jace sitting sheepishly at the table. He refrains from any comment except for a small thanks and tucks in, noting that Jace only starts eating once he’s started. He chooses to start talking while Jace has his mouth full, in hopes that it will get the stubborn man to listen. _

_ “I interpreted from the bite mark that you were raped. Am I right?” Jace almost chokes on his food, but Magnus waits patiently. Eventually he gives a small nod before trying to drown himself in a sip of orange juice. _

_ “I’m sorry someone did that to you. The scar looked very old; were you a child?” Magnus is trying to stay collected, knowing Jace won’t do well with an emotional outburst, but as he gets another nod he has to hold back his anger. That someone would do that to a  _ child _ …. _

_ “Okay. One more question, and then we’ll finish up the delightful breakfast you made,” Jace blushes at that and Magnus smiles, but it disappears as soon as he starts speaking again, “Did Valentine rape you?” _

_ A nod. _

_ They finish the breakfast. _

\--

“...scar? If Jace had a scar I’d know about it.”

“Then I fear I've betrayed his secrets yet again. I apologize, Jonathan.” Apparently, Magnus knew he was awake even if Alec, someone connected to his very soul, did not. The warlock in question sits down, then, his head just under the top blanket of the fort, and with slit-open eyes Jace can see the guilt and regret in his face.

He shakes himself awake, surprising Alec, before putting a heavy hand on Magnus’ nervously fidgeting ones, “It's alright. He still knows.” Magnus’ eyes widen before he nods, and he can feel Alec’s surprise at the statement too. The boyfriends’ eyes meet each other, Jace seeing the recognition and anger and sadness in both of them, and he's more than heartened that these two people know, and believe him, and love him.

He doesn't say this. 

“Stop looking so sappy and get under here. I've just poured my heart out for the third time this week and I'm horny for a nap.” Magnus laughs, but there's a light blush and grateful stance to him as he crawls into the fort on Alec’s side. Jace grins as he watches the man he trusts with his brother curl up with him, feeling the love radiate from the bond so strongly he's sure Magnus feels it too, and he curls up with them, relishing in warmth and safety and love yet again. It doesn't take him long to fall back into sleep, but he hears the others talk as he drifts.

“I'm gonna kill him, Mags. I'm gonna kill him.”

“Oh, my sweet. He's as good as dead. As soon as he touched our puppy, his clock started counting down.”

* * *

Jace knows as soon as Alec walks in that something is wrong. They'd spent the whole day sleeping like that, until Alec had complained of a stiff back and Magnus had insisted they leave to the loft so he can massage him. Sensing it as the desperate plea for alone time he knows it was, Jace was more than happy to shoo them, resisting all protests on Alec's part about leaving him alone.

Instead of going back to his room to sleep at the now-appropriate time of day, Jace stayed in the fort, reveling in the strong smell of Alec and the faint tingle still left in the air by Magnus’ magic.

But then Alec walks into the library, hands flapping rhythmically as he paces, forgetting to close the door behind him. Jace makes quick work of taking down the fort (it really was only a handful of blankets and books) before walking over to his distressed parabatai. He knows not to touch him, so he stands a short distance away, not asking Alec to talk as that will only set him more on edge. Without conscious thought his angelic powers activate the parabatai rune, momentarily strengthening the connection as he sends calm and patience through the bond. Alec stops pacing, and switches to thumping his fist against his chest before talking.

“Mom is here, sorry sorry, Mom is here.” He clearly wants to say it a few more times to voice his displeasure, but Jace understands. While Alec loves their mom, fiercely and deeply, he knows she isn't kind to Jace when she should be. Now that Jace has made himself vulnerable with unearthing his traumas, Alec wants to protect him from that. It's thoughtful, and so very Alec.

“Hey, it's alright Al. I could handle her when I was ten.” Alec stops stimming for a second and looks him dead in the eyes, as if to say ‘no, you couldn't’, which is honestly fair. There had been many a time Jace would come crying to Alec, sure that Maryse was either going to beat him or send him back to Idris. “It's different now.  _ I'm _ different now. Besides, I have my two best siblings to help me, don't I?” That gets Alec to smirk, and Jace considers it a win. 

Until Maryse storms through the open door with a frustrated Izzy behind her.

“Mom! I told you not to…” Izzy trails off at the sight of her brothers, both dishevelled but Jace looking better rested than he has in weeks. And again, she's struck with a desperation to know  _ why _ , why Jace looks happier and what had made him so upset in the first place. But she knows she'll learn eventually, and right now she needs to protect her brothers from Maryse on a warpath.

“Alec! You put Jace off-duty  _ and _ reduced your own duties? You're the Head of the Institute! Your actions reflect on this Institute and on our family, and I will not have the Lightwood name associated with shirking duties.” Alec's only response is to flinch at her tone, and both his siblings have to resist the urge to snap back at her.

Seemingly satisfied with her reprimand, Maryse continues, “To make up for this, there is a mission that I put forward both your names for. Valentine's former hideouts need to be searched, starting with his cabin in Idris.” Izzy is surprised at the fairly simple mission, having expected her mother to put them forward for something high profile. Her surprise morphs into confusion as Jace’s face pales and Alec's flushes with anger.

“No. I can go with Izzy, but Jace isn't going anywhere near that place.” Alec has to grind out through his bared teeth, but Maryse merely huffs before turning on her heel and stalking away.

Izzy wants to ask Alec what the hell is going on, but her older brother only has eyes for his parabatai. He puts a hand on Jace’s face but the blond pushes it lightly away.

“I'm fine, Alec,” but his voice shaking says the contrary, and he clears his throat to try and counteract it, “it's okay. Going… there won't be fun, but it's not like he’ll be there.”

Alec makes a noise of protest, hands opening and closing rapidly. “It will  _ feel _ like he's there.” This clearly isn't the end of the argument, but Izzy has had enough. She struts up to them, noting how her brother flinches at the click of her heels; he's close to overload, no doubt because of Mother Dearest.

“Tell me what's going on. I'm happy to run interference, but,  _ Jace _ . I know you're hurting and I don't know why and it hurts me. Brothers,  _ please _ .” A clear conversation goes on between her brothers’ eyes, and she tries not to feel annoyed. Of course Jace would go to Alec first; he may be closer in age to her, but the two boys had always been close, even before the bond. While Izzy used to get annoyed when Alec wouldn't speak, Jace understood, and he was always happy to hear Alec ramble about his favorite things (looking back, Izzy thinks Jace was just happy to hear someone talk, without orders or malice). 

Eventually Jace clears his throat, “I'm sorry Izzy; you deserve to know. I-with everything that's happened recently, it's brought up some memories of my fa-of Valentine,” she can't help but wince at the name, “some memories that I'd tried  _ really  _ hard not to think about. Even when he was Michael Wayland, he wasn't a nice man. You already know he would… beat me, but he. He raped me too.” Jace keeps his face blank and his voice is strangely monotone, but his arms still shake as if his body can't contain the emotion.

“ _ Fuck _ -” Izzy throws a hand up to her mouth as she fights off nausea. “I'm sorry Jace, I… Fuck!” She has tears in her eyes but she looks ready to kill.

Alec reaches out and she takes his arm, lets herself be brought closer to the pair. Jace tentatively putting a hand around her shoulders almost breaks her, because Jace doesn't  _ do _ tentative. He's sure and strong and loving but never scared like this.

She pulls away after a moment, wiping at her eyes and straightening her dress. “I'll fix this,” her voice doesn't waver, “I'll fix this, and then we'll get you help, okay?” In this moment she seems older, composed, like she has all the answers, so Jace just nods. And she leaves, looking so much like her mother. 

Alec leaves to find a quiet place once Jace assures him it's fine, and he uses the opening to follow his sister now that his brother isn't there to tell him not to. Izzy and Maryse have ended up in one of the drawing rooms, and Jace keeps himself a fair distance from the door as he activates his hearing rune.

_ “... Mom, you don't understand what he's been through! The memories that his old house could trigger-” _

_ “That's a risk I'm willing to take, and as soon as Jace stops being coddled, I'm sure he will agree.” _ He can't help but shudder at her cold tone; at one time he'd almost considered Maryse his mother.

_ “He was raped Mom!” _

Silence, except for his own breathing amplified through his head.

_ “Mom…. Did you know?” _

Maryse scoffs, _ “I'm hardly so unobservant to have not noticed. What happened was unfortunate, but it made her Jace, turned him from a girl into a warrior.” _

_ “How could you say that! Jace being a man has nothing to do with that sick bastard…” _

Jace isn't listening anymore, he's running and trying to breathe but his body can't seem to coordinate both, not when his brain is fully occupied with one thought:

She's right.

Maybe he hears heels following after him, a deep and familiar shout, sees the flash of a stele.

But then he's outside, nowhere near the Institute's doors. His feet keep moving as he tries to piece together how he got this far, taking him to an apartment. He buzzes for the second floor apartment without thought, and a smooth low voice responds.

“Yes?”

“L-luke?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told you I was writing! I started school literally the day after I uploaded the last chapter and I've had a couple breakdowns but this chapter was surprisingly therapeutic. Yes I know that Jace hasn't really discovered his rune activating powers at this point in the show, but as I said I'm ignoring canon after 2x15.   
> The chapter titles are all from the opening monologue of Praying by Kesha, which is my ultimate Jace song so if u need something to listen to while reading this fic that's what I listen to while writing it. As always, comments cure my depression


	4. give me a sign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for emotional abuse, mentions of past suicide attempts, mentions of incest, mentions of non-consensual kissing, and Simon being a fucking memelord

Luke guides Jace over to the couch. The couch, in the apartment Jace doesn't remember walking to. He sits, and he doesn't know how he _got_ here; he was in the Institute hearing Maryse, and now he's-

“Breathe Jace, that's it, just keep breathing. You're in my loft; it's 10 p.m. on Saturday and you're safe.” It takes less time than normal for Jace to come out of his panic, maybe because Luke is there, talking him through it and grounding him, or maybe just because he's so tired and confused and honestly ready to push all of it back inside.

He opens his eyes and Luke is there, face warm and concerned and hands folded gently over his own, thumbs circling calmly. The other man's worry is palpable, and Jace has the sudden urge to fix it.

“I-I'm okay. I just, don't remember walking here? Maryse was at the Institute, and she said some things. About Valentine, a-and me, and then. I was just here.”

“Sounds like you dissociated,” And that's not Luke. Maia walks out from the hallway, looking entirely nonplussed at Jace's sweaty and shaking form, and at Luke's glare, “What? He's clearly freaking about because he doesn't know what happened, and we all know he's fucked up enough that PTSD symptoms will fit.”

She flops down on the other end of the couch, putting her feet up on the new table before sliding them back off at a half-hearted growl from her alpha. Jace leans away from her, curling in on himself. Opening up has been so hard, and the irony is not lost on him that a woman he's let see him naked is someone he can't let see him vulnerable.

Maia seems to get it, though, forgoing her initial forced nonchalance. “I get it, dude. You haven't dealt with any of your shit your whole life, and now that you're finally trusting people you're a lot more… Scared of people seeing you differently. Of that trust being broken.” She's facing him, but her eyes are far away. And Jace understands: she gets it.

“I'm sorry I didn't. That I wasn't the best to you. You didn't deserve that.”

“Jace, we already did the apology bullshit. You were an asshole because your grandma is an asshole, and then I was an asshole right back. Besides, I think the sex more than made up for it.” She smirks at the same time Jace winces, and Luke looks at her with a sad disapproval. Oh. That's what's happening. Her brain goes back to Jordan, because that's where it always goes whenever she has to think about consent and Bad Touch. She knew Jace had issues, with not valuing himself while pretending to be the hottest shit on the block, and she understands that more than most. Maia just didn't realize how similar they really are. Still, she stops herself from looking back on that night in the alley, picking apart her actions and his and how she should have known, because that doesn't help. Jace has sex. A lot. He clearly likes it, and he was definitely 100% down that night. But when memories come back of shit like that, it's hard not to feel...

“I don't mean it like that. You're not just good for sex, and… Whatever happened to you, that wasn't sex. But I understand that when it's an open wound, it's hard to tell the difference. I'm going to head out.”

Jace makes a choked noise, “You don't have to-you didn't do anything wrong.”

“I know,” she gives him a steady look as she wraps her scarf around her scar, “and neither did you.”

\--

Alec is shaking when he walks into Magnus’ apartment. Well, his hands are, but his body is tick-tock rocking side to side, movements so much more pronounced than he's used to because he knows he can get away with it with Magnus.

Magnus, who at first sight of his boyfriend in such distress immediately rushes over, touches him feather light and guides him to the bedroom. Alec seeks out the sensory box without a word, sinking his fingers into the rice and rocking, slowly letting his movements become less sharp as the anxiety of the interaction wears off. His boyfriend sits on the bed across from him, showing less concern and so much more love than he did when Alec's meltdowns first happened. Now he understands, that this is part of Alec's life, part of him, and that with space and patience he’ll be happier.

Alec thanks the Angel that he's not nonverbal right now, that words are difficult but manageable because this is about Jace, not him.

“Maryse,” he tries to ignore the way Magnus tenses at his mother's name because it's honestly justified, “at the Institute. Wants Jace to go to go to his old home. Maryse is stubborn; Jace _can't_.”

Magnus is sending off waves of sparking displeased magic without a thought. “And of course she knows, because how could a Lightwood not use every piece of _leverage_ at her disposal. Don't worry, I'll set her straight-”

Alec frowns, “Izzy said she knows, knew, but I can't. How could she?”

How Magnus wishes he could spell himself to two places at once. Well, he could, but he doesn't have the time for such a complex ritual: he needs to rip Maryse Lightwood to shreds.

“You should call Isabelle over, darling; I really do wish I could stay with you but Maryse _has_ to see reason for our puppy's sake.” The look the warlock receives in response is one of bone-tired relief, and Magnus knows he's made the right choice, stepping out into the portal without further parting words (who is he kidding, of course he exchanges I-love-yous first. He's not an animal).

\--

With thoughts of Jordan swirling in her head, Maia decides on the boathouse. She knows Jace and Simon are close, and her favorite vampire deserves to know that the Shadowhunter isn't doing well. And if she's being honest, she could really go for a Lewis-brand hug right about now.

\--

“Maryse Lightwood, I have little patience for your false pleasantries or feigned confusion. I'll make this simple: you will _not_ be sending Jace on that mission, or anywhere near Valentine, until Jace asks for it himself.” Magnus is radiating fury and Maryse can feel it, but she only scoffs in response.

“And who are you, a man of such… proclivities, to lecture me on what I should and should not do.”

“Honestly Maryse, sometimes I think you're more offended by me being bisexual than me being half-demon,” he takes note of the way she flinches, grinning viciously, “but you have a point: who am I? Well, I'm the High Warlock of Brooklyn, widely regarded as the most powerful warlock currently living, and I hold major sway in all downworlder communities as well as a few Shadowhunter factions. So I think I have plenty authority to _suggest_ that you not be a callous bigot for once in your life.” Maryse sits back stunned at this, and Magnus feels no need to hide his pleasure at unsettling her. He's tried to be civil with her for Alec's sake, but the woman he knows has always been much more concerned with image than decency.

Maryse stands to her full height, and he has to resist not spelling himself an inch or so taller out of spite. Instead, he stays relaxed and ready for whatever retort she throws back. “Your disrespect is deplorable, but expected. I will do as I see fit, and Jace knows better than-”

“But who are you, exactly?” Magnus butts in, not willing to hear her slight his de-facto ward again, “Not the Head of the Institute, no, he's safely in my home. You were fired from that position, I believe? So what position do you hold in the Clave. Boot-licker? I don't believe you have any authority here, or at all.” She has the decency to look thoroughly chastised, but Magnus has lost all enjoyment in this. As much fun as it is to tear down his boyfriend's abusive mother, he knows his statement isn't entirely true: she still carries weight in the Clave, and if she really tried she could make sure the order goes through. No doubt she only went to her children first because she thought she still held her iron-clad control.

He tries to appeal to her emotions, however deeply hidden they may be, “Please, Maryse. After what that man did, seeing the place where it happened will only further hurt Jace.”

“And he will grow stronger for it.”

“Wood can only splinter so long until it snaps.”

“And what would you know of it!” Maryse steps around her desk, coming within inches of him and looking dead in his eyes, “I have cared for him, I know he can be better, and how could you-”

“I know more of this than I hope you _ever_ have to experience. I know the pain, the humiliation, the careful years of putting yourself back together only to have one moment rip it all away. I know this will break him, Maryse. And you know it too.”

He doesn't wait for a response, storming out in a flourish and waiting until he was no longer in sight to wipe the tears from the corner of his eye. He opens the portal: Magnus is ready to go home.

\--

Jace doesn't know what to say. Like always, Luke isn't forcing him to talk. In fact, he put on a crappy made-for-TV movie and grabbed a stack of manilla folders (‘casework’, Jace's limited mundane knowledge supplies). Thinking of something to say isn't the hard part; Jace has thousands of things he could say, thanks and desperate pleas and  confessions of dark nights spent wondering ‘why?’. No. Thinking of something to say isn't the issue. But he doesn't know which one is _right_ , which one will get him sympathy without pity, which one will keep him here, safe, and not back in a cabin in Idris.

He decides on a safe topic: Clary. “You know, it was Clary who told me to talk with you,” Luke raises an eyebrow and Jace rushes to clarify, “she doesn't know, about… All of it, but. In the Sealie court, when she kissed me… I froze. It's just, she was my _sister_ , and then suddenly she wasn't and was kissing me. It was t-too familiar.” Jace shudders at the memory.

“Jace, you know… Her kissing you, without your consent: it's okay to feel upset about that.” And Luke is looking at him with such concern and _no_ ,that's not what he meant-

“It wasn't-it wasn't like that, she wasn't like _him._ We talked about it afterwards, and I explained that I still see her as a sister, and she got it. She apologized. She's _nothing_ like him.”

Luke puts his hands up placatingly, “That's not what I meant. Her kissing you is nothing like what your father did, but it's okay to be uncomfortable when people touch you without asking, even if it isn't sexual.”

Jace nods, not really believing him but accepting the clarification. “So after I explained, she said that…

_\--_

_“…as your sister, I think you need to talk to someone,” She puts up a hand before he can interject, “I know that someone isn't going to be me. I'm too close to him, I get it. Or at least I'm starting to. I'm sorry for how I've… Dismissed your feelings about him in the past; I was working through my own feelings about Valentine and I think I forgot that however conflicted I was about it, it would be ten times worse for you. You_ lived _with him, and from what you told me… You may need some help. I've always felt like I could talk with Luke, and…”_

_\--_

“... she recommended I talk it through with you. That because of your… Past with Valentine, you might understand,” Luke nods solemnly, a proud smile on his face, before Jace adds, “and that you give the best ‘bear hugs’ in New York.”

“That sure sounds like her,” Luke says with a laugh. “I'm really glad that you have talked with me, Jace. I know a thing or two about letting things sit and… It isn't healthy. Shit festers.”

“I'll drink to that.”

\--

“Wait, what happened? Is Jace okay?”

Maia snorts as Simon releases her from his hug, “Is he ever? Look, I don't want to get into it cause it's really not my place, but I know you two… Bonded, or whatever, and he's having a rough time. Some memories of his past have come back up.”

Simon sucks in a sharp breath, and Maia can instantly tell that he knows, probably more than she does. “Fuck, I told him he could talk to me, where is he?”

“Don't worry, he's at Luke's. For once, it seems like he actually has been talking instead of going into a self-destructive hate spiral.”

Simon is already shrugging on a coat to go, but he looks relieved, “Well, that's something. Listen, I hate to leave when you just got here…”

She shrugs him off, “Go. Save your boyfriend.” He gives her a grateful look before speeding out the door.

“Not my boyfriend!”

* * *

 

_Jace: hey it’s jace izzy gave me your number_

_Simon: y??? she knos i use snapchat more_

_Jace: what’s snapchat_

_Simon: i cant_

_Simon: oh my f cuk man u cannot_

_Simon: i dont know if im ready to be a parent yet_

_Simon: your technology parent_

_Simon: do i need to register u for school??? i dont know the protocol_

_(!) 1 New Notification: Snapchat from Jace_

_{a close up shot of Jace with the dog filter, caption: henlo tech daddy}_

_Simon: yuo know im a good person,,, id ont deserve this_

\--

_Simon: you left your stelle here_

_Jace: no i didn’t? I’m genuinely using it right now_

_Simon: youve solved my stelle puzzle_

_Simon: i actually just want u to come here its importante_

_Jace: wait are you hurt what’s going_

_Simon: i may or may not have thrown the remote outside in a fit of rage_

_Simon: will you pick it up for me?_

_Jace: …._

_Simon: its not like i can get it and star trek is on in an hour!!!_

_Jace: isn;t star trek just reruns now_

_Simon: star trek discovery!!!!! female asian lead!!! needs all the ratings it can get!!_

_Jace: i’m sure it will survive without one idiot vampire_

_Simon: uhm fuck you???_

_Jace: you’re not really selling the case for me to help you_

_Simon: if you dont im gonna walk into the sun_

_Simon: ..._

_Simon: that was too soon wasnt it_

_Jace: i’ll be over_

_\--_

_Jace: ccan you pick me up_

_Simon: finally come to ur senses on the whole mundane licenses thing i see_

_Simon: …_

_Simon: jace???_

_Simon: bud i need to know where you are_

_Jace: sorry im at a cafe?_

_Simon: which one?_

_Jace: … i don’t really know_

_Simon: please tell me you’re not bleeding out in some random alley_

_Jace: i think i’m fine i jsut_

_Jace: i saw someone who looked like my dad and i_

_Jace: im hiding in the bathroom? Sorry i dont think i can go out to look at the name_

_Simon: dont worry my guy we’re snapchat friends os i can see u_

_Simon: ur savior daylighter is on his way_

_Simon: just keep breathing okay_

_Jace: says the guy who doesn’t need to breathe_

_Simon: glad to kno ur feeling better_

\--

_Simon: i thinkk its unfair and ifllegal that i can have panica ttacks when i dont n_ _eed to breahte_

_Jace: but you can breathe, and you should. do you need me to call you?_

_Simon: yes please_

_Call ended, duration: 12min_

_Simon: thanks lmao_

_Jace: don’t worry about it; I know you’d do the same_

_Jace: …_

_Jace: we’re pretty fucked up, arent we?_

_Simon: yep!! trauma bros 4 lyfe_

_Jace: please never type that again_

_Simon: too late its already the groupchat name_

* * *

 

“Guess who's here with popcorn and a Netflix password!” Simon walks into Luke's apartment with little preamble, knowing he has a standing invitation in. When he finds them in the living room Luke is giving him a disapproving look.

“Simon, now really isn't-” Jace cuts him off by nudging Luke's shoulder before gesturing for Simon to join him on the couch. Luke looks surprised, but quickly drops it and gives Simon a brief hug.

“So, Jace,” Simon pulls open the popcorn bag as he talks, “I think we left off on episode three of Sense8, right?” Jace nods, and they all settle in to start. Plan ‘Simon Comforts Jace’ is going off without a hitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I fuck with the timeline of when the show takes place just so I could mention star trek discovery? you betcha  
> I hope u enjoyed some of the lighter stuff in this chapter, sorry that I haven't brought Clary in yet lmao this is the slowest fic ive ever written. this fic fucks me up mentally while writing it sometimes so that's why the updates take so long.  
> up next hopefully: Simon and Izzy bring Jace to a support group, Magnus and Luke bond over their adopted children, and Clary is a lesbian.


	5. last forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for frank discussions of rape, mention of abusive relationships, and victim blaming

Simon was the one to bring it up, in the end. Luke had been tip-toeing around it, trying to find the right time to suggest it, but Simon dropped it into conversation with little thought:

“So I was walking Izzy out of the support group meeting, and I saw a flier for a PTSD support group they're holding on Tuesdays! You should totally come, it's right after the narcotics anonymous meetings.” 

Jace had looked dumbstruck, and Luke was about to give Simon a good talking to about timing and tact (because really, this is getting ridiculous) when Clary joined in.

“Definitely! Come on Jace, it'll be nice to have people to talk to who understand, and we can come with!” Honestly, Luke thought he raised his kids better than this.

Jace looked like he wanted to back himself far enough into the park bench he would physically recede into it, “That's… nice, but I'm f-I'm not like that. That… Post-Trauma thing or whatever, that's not me. Besides, I have people to talk to, I have you guys.”

Simon snorts, “Okay, maybe that'd be true if you actually, I don't know,  _ talked _ to us. But, I think there's something bigger to unpack there: you definitely have PTSD, dude. For one, you're a child soldier, which I think the diagnosis was like  _ created  _  to describe.” Luke had to hold back his scolding because, to be fair, Simon did have a point. He decided in that moment to join in: in for a penny, in for a pound.

“I don't mean to gang up on you, Jace, but I know quite a few people with the condition, and you do match most of the key symptoms,” Luke turns to Jace and lowers his voice, “the nightmares, the flashbacks, and remember what Maia said about your time-loss last week? I'm not saying that you definitely have it, and I'm not saying you're broken; just that the people at this meeting, they  _ get  _ the nightmares and the hypervigilance. I think it might help.”

Jace was looking down, and his voice was so quiet that only the two downworlders heard it, “Okay.”

And that led to today, where Jace was trying not to shake out of his skin as his sister and Simon walk him arm-in-arm to the community center.

“Come on, big brother, they're not gonna bite,” Izzy says cheerily, “besides, it's not like you have to share. I, on the other hand, have to at the NA meeting today.”

Simon asks quietly, catching on to Izzy's false happiness, “Do you really not mind that we sit in on the NA meeting with you? If it's too personal, we can just come back-”

Izzy cuts him off, and Jace tries not to be annoyed that this whole interaction is taking place across him, “It's fine, worry-wart. I want Jace to get a taste of the general set-up, and to see how it helps me.” She nudges Jace's shoulder affectionately, and his slight annoyance is gone at that. Together they make their way to the metal chairs in the room, but not before Jace snags a cup of lukewarm coffee. He doubts he’ll drink any of it, but it at least gives him something to do with his hands that isn't picking at his cuticles intensely enough that Simon throws him increasingly worried looks (one time was more than enough).

The circle fills up quickly, and soon someone speaks up, welcoming everyone back to the group. Jace assumes it's the leader, but as the meeting progresses he notices that the woman doesn't do much leading; she mostly just encourages people to talk or provides questions to the group.

“Did anyone have something they'd like to share today?” She asks, and Izzy clears her throat. “Ah, Izzy: go ahead.”

“Hello, I'm Izzy, and I'm an addict,” most of the people lightly chorus back the cliched ‘Hello Izzy’, but Jace just takes in a sharp breath. Of course, he knew about the yin fen, and he knew this was an addiction meeting, but it's still hard to put the word to his sister.

“It's been a month since I last used, but this past week I've been having cravings. My brother has been going through something really hard, and I feel like I have to be strong for him, strong like the drugs made me,” sensing the guilt stirring in Jace at this, Izzy squeezes his hand and gives him a look that assures ‘not your fault’. “but with his help, and the help of my friends, I know that I'm stronger without it than I ever was with it.”

There's a response of claps, and Jace almost slips his hand out to clap along with them, but instead he just sends back another squeeze. The rest of the meeting progresses similarly, with others sharing their stories of struggle and triumph, and then the organizer leads them in a round of affirmation: ‘I am not my addiction; it is a part of me, but it is not me. I am my recovery.’

Jace's hands are shaking by the time the trauma support group starts. This group is run by a different person, a man with dark skin and kind eyes, and he starts differently as well. He asks everyone to share a positive thing that happened in the past week. Izzy left; it's just Simon and him, and a sea of random faces.

Simon puts a hand over his before speaking, “One positive thing that happened this week was my buddy sharing something important with me.” He looks meaningfully into Jace's eyes and Jace looks away, mumbling ‘pass’ instead of sharing. A lot of things happened this week, but things are so different in his head now that it's hard to tell what's positive and what's not. It's all just. There.

The group runs in a similar fashion to the other, and Jace tunes most of the sharing out. Not because he doesn't care, but because he's scared to hear something similar to his own experience. He just focuses on Simon's hand, on the knowledge that he can leave whenever he chooses. Then Simon shifts in his seat, clears his throat, “It's been four months since I was assaulted,” and Jace's world freezes. He'd only known Simon for about four months; he'd understand the younger man not coming to him around the time it happened because Jace was even more of an asshole then, but. Now? They'd bared their souls to each other, given and spilled blood for each other. And Jace didn't know.

“I still don't know if I'm comfortable calling it that. I was… drugged, and she kept me in her house for a couple hours. I'm fuzzy on most of the details, but I know it didn't go all the way. One of her… friends stopped her, got me out of there. I was actually managing pretty well, but whatever she did. I got sick. I'm still sick, and I'm always gonna be, and that's what. That's the part that I can't get my head around, y’know?” As he speaks, he runs his fingers almost subconsciously over his throat, and that's enough for Jace to connect the pieces. Drugged, kidnapped, sick. Camille and his turning. Jace had seen the lipstick left on Simon, hadn't said anything because it was a common enough move with vampires to mouth at their prey before feeding but. Raziel. She could have done anything to him under that encanto. And Jace hadn't asked, hadn't really cared.

A young man in the group speaks up, probably a couple years older than them, thin in a big sweater he looks like he's trying to absorb into. “I know what you mean. My last boyfriend, he… He did a lot of things, some awful things, but he also slept around. I didn't think about it at the time; I was too scared to. But when I finally left. Or. When I called the police and got sent to the hospital. They ran some tests, and turns out he'd given me more than a couple bruises. I'm HIV positive. It was hard not to feel like he'd won, like he'd always be a part of me,” the man's voice grows more sure, “but he's not a part of me. He doesn't  _ get _ to be a part of me. We're always going to be affected by our past, but it doesn't define us. I'm not my illness. And neither are you.”

Simon whispers a thank you, and the group leader steers them to another sharer. Jace wants to say something, everything, but instead he just squeezes Simon's cold hand, bumps him lightly with his shoulder. And Simon gets it, smiles his goofy smile. Jace zones out again, this time processing what he's learned. He'd be lying if he said it didn't change how he viewed Simon, but only in that it shows he underestimated his strength.

Then the leader is making last calls, and it's like some of that strength was transferred to him because he's speaking before he knows it. “I-I'd like to share,” He feels Simon inhale in surprise, and the leader nods for him to continue, “it's been almost ten years since my father died. Or, faked his death in order to fuck me up more than he already had, only to come back a couple months ago. But I have a better family now, so it's alright.” His speech is short and clipped, like he's reading a mission report instead of sharing his life with strangers. He spares a glance around the room; a lot of people look shocked, but some understand. Simon looks proud, and that's enough for him to look back down at the floor again.

After a few more people share, the organizer leads them in a different affirmation: ‘I learn from positive and negative experiences. My joy is divine and so is my suffering. There's so much to be learned from both.’

\--

Simon isn't with him at the next meeting. Jace wasn't even sure he was going to go to another meeting, but apparently Magnus attends occasionally and offered to go with him. Magnus makes small-talk with the attendees before the meeting starts, but Jace is happy standing by his side, adding in a snort or jibe when needed. Jace doesn't want to get to know these people, he's struggling enough with small circle of friends he already has.

The leader eventually settles them down, and Jace manages to catch his name this time: Sam. Jace pokes at one of his latest bruises to try to get himself to focus as the meeting starts. Sam leads them in a different icebreaker than the one last week: name one step you've made toward recovery this week. The same thin young man from last week shares that he took a day off from work to watch Netflix with his cat, which gets a couple laughs and congratulations from the group. A woman in a wheelchair and hijab shares that she and her family have started seeing a therapist together.

More people share, going around the circle, and eventually Magnus takes his turn, “I shared some of my triggers with my partner. He was very receptive, but also didn't pry or coddle.” That gets a few happy and understanding nods, and Jace tries to just be glad for him instead of analyzing what Magnus might have shared with Alec. 

Jace’s first instinct is to pass again, but the anxiety at speaking is a lot less than it was last week. He goes for a simple, “I came here.” and Sam chuckles along with a few members.

“I'm glad you could join us.” he says sincerely, and Jace tries not to squirm under the attention. As he moves on with the meeting, Magnus sends a small pulse of magic to him. It almost reminds Jace of when he and Alec communicate through the bond; no clear thought, just an emotion running through him. This is pride, honest and caring pride at Jace sharing.

Sam opens up the group to free sharing again, and Magnus is the first to take up the opportunity, “Recently, I've been working through some of my more difficult memories, and I've had some realizations about my past relationship. My ex-lover had never been kind, but I think… I know now that much of what she did was abusive, and that…. Well, with my new partner, I've learned that you can always say ‘no’, no matter if you've agreed to something before.” A couple people, notably the thin man, nod in understanding. Jace thinks he's going to be sick. He only knows about one of the warlock’s exes, but it's not very hard to tell that Camille is the one he's talking about. Jace had  _ seen _ her pull him into a kiss, had seen the fear and disgust and acceptance in his eyes at it. He had seen his own feelings in Magnus that day, and he'd ignored it. He won't do that again.

More people share, Sam occasionally offering advice or asking questions, and Jace works up the courage to share as he listens. Talking last meeting had been hard, made him shake and stick with sweat, but when he got home he felt light. He wants to feel that again.

“The man who raised me wasn't really my father,” he says in the silence, and he can feel people's eyes settle on him, “he actually, uh. He killed my birth parents, and. He took me. Raised me to be a soldier in some war he made for himself, and then. He died, but came back recently and. A couple weeks ago he got me back. He didn't hurt me that much, but he made spaghetti, which is what he used to do when he…. Anyways, I got away but. It's hard to feel safe, after that.”

Sam is the first to speak, as the members seem stunned to silence, “It's definitely reasonable to feel unsafe, especially after being retraumatized like that. Last week you mentioned a new family, do they know this happened?”

Jace nods rapidly. “Yeah, they were the ones who helped me get out. But… At the time, they didn't really know just how bad Va-he was, I guess. Or, they knew he was bad, and they knew he raised me, but they didn't really connect that he was fuckin’ awful when he raised me. Now they get it, or they're starting to.” The pride and love swells from Magnus’s fingertips. Yeah, they get it.

\--

He's alone, this meeting. Not because no-one could go with, no, Luke had offered and even Maia had grudgingly mentioned it, but. He needs to be alone, this time. 

Alone is harder, though. As Sam makes the rounds, Jace passes on the icebreaker without even picking up what it was, instead just trying not to vibrate out of his fucking skin. Whatever the exercise is, it seems to take a bit longer than the last ones and that gives Jace time to focus. Center himself, run the words he’ll say through his head over and over,  _ my father raped me my father raped me my father _ -

Someone's speaking, then, and his frazzled brain picks out a word that has stared at him out of computer screens for the past week, “-hypersexuality. I'd always thought that after you were raped, you never wanted to have sex, or that you were scared of it or something. But then… after, it's all I wanted. I crave it, to prove that it can be good, to prove I  _ liked _ it. I've gotten help with it, and my current partner knows that when I ask for sex, sometimes I'm just looking for comfort, and that's the only thing I can think of.” The woman finishes, shy and damaged but also clearly happy, or… satisfied. Content with herself, and with her recovery.

Sam speaks then, “I'm very glad you can understand that part of you now. There's no one way to react to any type of trauma, but there are definitely ways to get help. Would anyone else like to share?”

And that's it. That's his cue, Jace should speak now. After a few seconds of trying, he raises his sweaty, shaking hand instead, and Sam nods at him.

“I-I think I… I think that's what's up with me, too? Or I. I  _ know  _ that I do the same thing. Did.” His voice is shaking, cracking in ways it hadn't since he was just barely on T.

“It's okay to be unsure,” Sam says slowly when Jace hasn't spoken for a while, “perhaps we can help you figure things out. You're saying you experience hypersexuality?”

He nods, then shakes his head, “I mean, I was for a while, a long while, but now I think. I'm not, now.”

Sam nods, “Okay. Do you know what triggered the hypersexuality?”

There. The cue he needs, “Yes. Yeah, my uh, my dad? Or, the guy who raised me, he. When I was eight, he had… sex, with me,”  _ he raped you why can't you say he raped you _ , “And then he kept doing it. Until he left.”

Again, he's left the group silent. The woman who spoke previously looks horrified, and quite a few people look ill. Jace knows that that's not his fault, that they aren't horrified or disgusted with him, just with what happened but. It still hurts.

He takes it upon himself to break the silence, though, “After I was. Really sexual, especially once I was a teenager. And since I was pretty, I… Got what I asked for, I guess.”

Sam speaks slowly, carefully, “Jace, you didn't ask for any of that to happen. It wasn't your fault.”

“No, yeah, I know that,” he says, flustered, “I just mean that when I wanted sex, I got it, and I wanted it a lot.”

“So what do you think changed? Why don't you anymore?” It's the sweater guy, David maybe. Sam looks at him slightly disapproving, but David huffs, “It's what you were going to ask.”

Jace takes a deep breath. He's gotten this far, might as well go all the way. In for a penny in for a pound, “When he got me back, that. That's what changed, I think. He didn't-he didn't do it again, but he talked about how I would ask for it, instead of punishments. How I even started it sometimes, would open his pants and  _ beg, _ ” he spits out, “and I didn't remember that, I told him he was lying but. I remember it now, some pieces. If I seemed like I was into it, he would be nicer. It would hurt less.”

“That doesn't mean you wanted it.” It's the girl with the hijab this time, a righteous fury in her eyes.

Jace shakes his head, “But I did! And I know I did, because after I was looking for it all the time, begging just like I did before-”

“Alright, let's take a few breaths,” It's Sam, looking at him in concern, “You were a child. Even if you think you wanted it, he was raping you, and whatever you did after that will never change that. Does someone know about this? Is anyone helping you with this?”

Jace tries to breathe, he really does, but it's a hollow imitation at best. “My friends, they know what he did, but, they don't know what. What  _ I _ did.”

Sam inhales deeply, sighing, “Okay, well that's good at least. We're running short on time now, but Jace. You need to talk to someone about this, it's eating you up inside. I have a few therapists I could recommend…”

He thinks back, on the conversations with Luke and Magnus, about the texts with Simon. Simon is seeing a therapist, has been since his attempt, and all three of them have been trying to convince him to do the same. At first he thought it was because he was burdening them too much with his issues, that they wanted to pass him off to someone else because they didn't care enough. But Magnus put it plainly: they care too much, and that's why he needs outside help. They can't put away their feelings about him and think objectively. Jace needs someone who can do that, who can understand what he's feeling without feeling it themselves.

“Yeah, I. I think I'd like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all, folks. I know it doesn't have a perfect resolution, but neither does recovery. I might have written more but I managed to trigger myself pretty badly writing this and now I can't. ill be writing other fics but not in this universe for a while (look out for some Harry Potter and baby driver).  
> as always, comments cure my depression


End file.
